Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, November 24, 1900, Page 6

A Story of the Secret Socicly Known as. the “Ragged + « « Thirteen” - «0 By Edward Hughes. CHAPTER L ‘The Flight From London. Whe first seven years of my life, or at all events such of them as I can re- member, were spent at an old farm- house in Oxfordshire, and there I was like to have been utterly spoilt, for the dear old couple with whom I lived would have made an attempt upon the moon had I expressed a wish to have had that luminary for a plaything. fEwo or three times a year a gentle- man came to stay with us, and so ex- citing an event did his advent be- come y reason of the many good things he brought me, that I grew to took for him anxiously; and when I was oid enough, and it was announced to me solemnly that he was my father, I had no objection whatever to take upon my young shoulders all the re- @pousibilities of sonship seeing that my sire was so pleasant a personage. “Jack"—by the way, I was known as ocho cfocfocforfe-cfocforhe offs | to question him as to his movements. struse problem. We were in the neigh- borheod of Vienna when he told me of his design to take me to England. “I want you to go to a university, Jack,” he said, ‘and I have a friend who will give you a little extra polish, and then you ought to hold your own fairly well,” and though I was some- what upset at the prospect of giving up a companionship that had become so dear to me, I saw the wisdom of the step he contemplated. | ‘When we reached London our move- ments were, to me at least very curi- | ous. father took a house Bays- water way, and partly furnished it— that is to say, he made one room down stairs very comfortable, and that we used for a sitting room, and another, up stairs, was converted into a double- bedded sleeping apartment. The rest of the house—and it was a fairly large one—was left empty. We took all of | our meals out of the place, sometimes at one restaurant, sometimes at anoth- er, and we never entered the house we euphemistically called “home” until after dark. He left me for several hours during the day to do the sights of London by himself, and it never entered my mind An old dame came to do the necessary housework, but we rarely saw her, for Jack Tremayne—‘Jack,” said he to me one dz s I sat on his knee, “we must begin to learn something.” I stared at him in surprise, for I teok bis ‘‘we” literally. “We must have a primer, and before the wir comes we ought to be able | to read”; and when I asked him | with a the solemnity of puzzled | childhood why it was that he couldn't | read, I was answered with a merry | laugh | “E of you,” he said; “amd a kind gentleman has promised te come over and give you lessons, that for my sake you'll be and work hard.” i promise readily enough, ing of it out was another : he “kind gentleman” found for though he labored ientiously enough for an | I just as conscient- | @ goed bo} I gave ‘Dut the ca fously thwarted his good endeavours, ! end tried to learn nothing, and was; eminently successful. And he might} have been teaching me with the same result through all the days of my| childhood had not “my Mary’—for T! speedily appropriated her—come upon | the scene. I thought her the sweetest lady in; existence, and I would fain have ad- opted her for my mother had she given me the slightest encouragefment to do so, for, in my innocent way, I ar- gued th: since I had so nice a man} for a father, and as he had, so to, speak, “proceeded” to the relation- ; ship, I couldn’t seg why the sweet fady shouldn't qualify for the honours of maternity. I did not, of course, put it to mygelf exactly in thgt way, but mo doubt I should have done so had I been abie. “My Mary” was a visitor who had | come to spend the summer with us, and she took me in hand, and matters | soon went smoothly, so smoothly, in- al of the story that Russia has begun deed, that I had quite mastered the rudiments of reading, when a giant | came and took my business away. It was the leafy month of June, and | E had made myself happy and my i knickerbockers diry by clambering to | « high perch in an old oak tree, and I ‘was contemplating a still loftier flight, with the prospect of a rapid descent, when I heard voices beneath me, and, Jooking down, I saw Mary and a gen- Ueman with her, and the gentleman’s arm was where I considered it ou mot to be, for it was around her waist. ‘And he kc d her, not once, nor twice, but many times, and presently, when he kad called her names that set my boyish heart beating (for I knew, by the way she allowed it, that he had the right) he drew her away. “You must come and sing my old fa- vorite for me, M .” he said, and, as soom as the re out of sight, I slipped down and followed, and pres- ently, nestling by the rose bush that grew near the best room window, I! theard her playing the old piano softly, and singing a song that she had often sung to me, an Irish melody, set to words that began:— '*Z’a mourn the hopes that leave me.” Two days afterwards the man with the blue eyes and the big beard.came (fer ‘my Mary.” I clung to her, but at {fast she put me from her gently, and kissed me and bade me “good-bye,” end then she promised to come back in @ few days—and she was one who al- ‘ways kept her promise if she could. I mever saw her again while I was at the farm house. That was the first blight the Ragged Thirteen put upon my life, theugh many years passed before I fanew who were the authors of my troubie_ { The leafy month of June had given way to the much more satisfactory fruity July, when one night, as I was ®@reparing for rest, my father suddenly mppeared, and, even to my childish eyes and understanding, it was plain ‘that he was in great trouble. He took the old lady and gentleman into an in-. mer room, and some quarter of an hour efterwards I was dressed for traveling, aud when dear old daddy and mammy had wept over me, I drove away with any father to the station. | 1 i { i i i | ' The next day a steamer carried us } to the continent, and for years we ‘wandered through the by-ways of Eu- wope, avoiding the large cities and @taying in the neighborhood of none ef them for any long time. My father became my teacher, and a better of more patient master no child ver bad, and while he did his best to develop my intellect, he spared no pains in getting me physically fit for | my “rough-and-tumble’ with the ‘world; and, fine scholar though he ‘was, I believe he was as much pleased ‘when EF could stand up to him with the and take my part with credit as was when I mastered = ab- $ Y | he had some important letters to write, | with a brigand chief, staking his life ' ter in a boiling, raging surf, when no | there came to me through the stillness | she nearly always put in an appear- ance after we had gone out, and left before we returned. One evening—it was April, and the nights were very chilly—as we sat by the fire, my father began to unfold his plans, but, suddenly remembering that he put off telling me what he was about to say, and it was so late when he finished his correspondence that I went to bed. T had passed through the fairyland of dreams and was well into my first sleep, when I was aroused by4 th etouch of a hand. My father was standing beside me. “Jack,” he whispered, “wake up!” I stretched myself and stared at him, and as my faculties returned it was} clear to me that he was greatly agi- tated. I had seen him on the deck of a foundering boat apparently as un- moved as though he was treading the street; and I had seen him, when we; were captured in Italy, throwing dice and a sum of money against my re- lease, and winning as composedly as though he had been playing for mar- bles; I had seen him take to the wa- other man dare follow, and bring a child to shore; and, remembering these incidents, it came as a shock to me to recognize a tremor in his whisper that, had I not known him so well, might have made me suppose that he was in terror of some great danger. “Are you awake? Can you under- stand me?” “Yes, pater,” I said, and his manner brushed away the last lingering cob- webs of slumber. I'm wide f awake.” “Get some clothes on, then, and come with me. Don’t make a sound. There’s something wrong going on down stairs. Take that heavy stick yonder. I’ve got my revolver. Carry ‘the light, and shade it with your hand, and show it when I give the signal.” As we reached the head of the stairs | Yes, of the empty house a faint nois> as of | someone slipping along the wall, and this slight sound, udded to oyr cau- tious method of procedure, so foreign to the boldness of my father's nature, set my heart beating and my hand shaking. > Slowly we descended, and when‘ we reached the door of our living room my father gave the signal, and, as he gently pushed his way in, I showed the light. Everything was as we had left | it. The curtains were drawn, the boh | of the farther door was shot, the arm- chairs were on cither side of the fire- | place, and his pipe lay on the table. | Motioning to me to foliow him, he* went back along the passage, and paused before the door of an empty room. I could see him making ready with the revolver, and as he signed to me to show the light, he turned the handle quickly with his left hand, and, flinging back the door, rushed in. I was close at his heels. There was not a single article of furniture in the room, from which one looked out, through a French window on to a lawn terminated by a wall that separ- ated it from the street. There was nothing to prevent us seeing the man who was propped up in the further corner, and who had evidently slipped down into a sitting posture, his head bent forward and his arms hanging limply beside him, with his hands trailing on the floor, The window was open, and the first thing my father did was to close it and fasten the catch. ‘Then he turned to the man and lifted his head, and it was plain, even to my inexperienced eyes, that we were look- ing upon the face of one who had done | with the things of this world. The | man was middle-aged and in evening dress. Suddenly my father let the head fall forward again, and, changing the re- volver to his left hand, he snatched something from the floor; but, quick as his movement was, I saw what hé picked up. It was a small card, such as children play with, and the face, in- stead of being white, was jet black, with the exception of a red pip in the center. Four other cards he found lying close beside the man’s riz>t hand, and of these I noticed two—namely, an- other black-faced one wit the ace of diamonds and the eight of clubs on a red field, but what the other two were | I had no opportunity of seeing, for | they were so small that he had no dif- ficulty in concealing them. Onde more he bent down, and this time drew from , beneath the inanimate figure a small lace handkerchief, and I never catch the scent of heliotrope now, though many years have gone by since it floated to my nostrils that night, with- out the scene recurring to my mind most vividly. It was clear to me that my father was now acting under the influence of some great terror. His face was white and rigid. There were beads of per- spiration on his forehead, and ever and anon he glanced at the window as though expecting an attack. He stooped once more and put his fingers beneath the left flap of the man’s coat, but scarcely had he touched the clothing than he drew them back quickly, and I saw upon them that which told me how the man had come to his end. I felt my father’s terror communicat- ing itself to me. I looked for him to rush from the place and summon the police; I could scarcely refrain from shouting, or screaming, to break the awful silence, and I had well-nigh come to the end of my self-control when he whispered: “Get back to the Quick!” , I needed no second bidding, and as I flew up the stairs two at a time, I could hear him locking.the door of the room wherein the man lay. He followed me closely. “Dress yourself,” said he, sharply, as I stood there shivering with terror and cold. “Dress yourself, and put your old clothes into your portmanteau. I’ collect my papers and things,” and in Iess than a quarter of an hour -we stood, baggage in hand,, ready to de- part from the ill-omened house. “Are you going to inform the po- lice?” I asked, as he took up the can- dle. He put it and his bag down. “Listen to me, Jack,” he said. “1 mayn’t have much time to give you advice in the morning; but if you set any value on my life or any store by your own, you’ll never tell a soul what you've seen to-night. If we appear in this case, our lives would probably not be worth a day's purchase. I’ shall contrive in some way or other to send the police here. We can’t do the poor fellow below any good.” “Do you know him?” I asked. “No; I have seen him before, but 1 found something beside him that tells me plainly enough who planned the deed.” “Then why not tell?” “T can’t explain to you, Jack; you must trust me, absolutely. I am act- ing for your interest, so pull yourself together. You've been a plucky boy; don’t break down now. We must get away from this, and we mustn’t let anyone see us going.” He blew out the light, and we groped our way down stairs and past that door, and I was thankful when we found ourselves in the street and felt the cool night air on our*faces. It was nearly 12 o'clock, but, after a long walk, we fotind shelter in a lodging house near Tottenham Court Road, and I was glad to nestle down in bed. and, pulling the sheet over my head, I tried to forget the awful sight I had seen, and at last fell asleep. ‘When I awoke it was broad daylight and I was alone. I looked about me, and on the table saw a small packet addressed “For My Dear Son.” I opened it, and found within a letter written in pencil, and as I read and re- read it until I knew every word of it, and as it explains my position exactly, cannot do better than reproduce it here, as nearly as possible. “My dear son,” it began, without mention of day or place, “you will be surprised when you find that I have left you, and you will be still more so when I tell you that it is utterly im- room above. | possible for me to say when we shall foregather again. We have been such close companions for so many years that our parting causes me the great- est pain. You have been a lad of grit —a boy after my own heart. Be brave now, and comfort yourself with the thought that at this crisis of our af- fairs I am trying to act the part of a loving father as earnestly and faith- fully as ever I did when we were to- gether. “I am leaving England at once, and my flight is connected with the awful event of which you have just been a witness. I thought at first that my enemy had found me out, but, on re- flection, I have come to the conclusion that it is only a coincidence that what happened to that poor man should have happened in the house where I chanced to be. Still, it is a warning to me. I would stay and take my chance, but that for your sake life is very pre- cious to me now, and I shall be able, just as well, at a distance, to bring to maturity certain schemes that will en rich you. “My dear, dear boy, I can under- stand how puzzled you will be by al these mysterious hints at hidden dan- ger; but if I explained matters fully I should be laying upon your young shoulders a burden that has galled mine for years, and I should be matr- ring the brilliant career which I be- lieve lies before you. Why not seek the protection of the police? you may ask. My dear boy, the police could give us no help years ago, and they can give none now. Rest assured that whenever it is safe for me to do so, I shall rejoin you; but until that happy hour arrives you must be guided by me, and follow out the directions I am about to give you. “You will find a purse under your pillow, with plenty of money for your present needs. I want you to make your way without any delay to Ken- dal in Westmorland. You will travel from Euston, and I advise you to go to the station by ’bus. ou change at Ox- enholme, and, having arrived at Ken- dal, go to 95, Strickland Gate, and ask to see Mr.’Travers, and you will tell him that John Tremayne, your father, has sent you. Nothing more will be necessary to secure you every home comfort, and you will be prepared for college, and your allowance will be such as, coupled with hard work, will make your career, I trust, a happy and successful one. I leave you to choose a profession, but, before settling down, you might, with advantage, travel for a year or so, and I have arranged that your income shall be one thousand a year. It will be. paid through Mr. Travers, who will give you my bank- er’s name and address. I know that this is a large sum, but you will be able to save, and it will be well to ae as much money by you as Possi- “And now, let me entreat you to make no efforts to find me, for if you do you may only be finding me for an enemy.» We have always been known by the rame of Tremayne, but this, although your Christian name, is not your surname. IT shall not write that down, but if happier days come—if God grants that I should put my arms about you again—then we shall be known by the name of our forbears. 1 have watched you from a tiny chfid, T have dandled you on my knee, and IT have felt all a father’s pride as I saw your thews and sinews shapeing them- selves to a man’s estate. You have never told me a falsehood yet. Try and act in the same way to everyone. “When you have read this, ponder over it for a while, until you thor- oughly understand its contents, and then destroy it. You will find every- thing arranged with the proprietor, and your first act of self-control will be to sit down and eat your breakfast, as though my absence were some- thing you expected. Lose no time in taking train to the north. “And now, my dear son, good-bye. Pray for me, as I shall ever do for you, and may God grant that when we meet again, be it in this world or the next, we may be able to say, one to the other: ‘I have done nothing for which you need feel shame.’ You were sleeping so calmly that, when I kissed you, you never moved. Fear God, hen- or the Queen, do your duty, and re- member that I am now, as I ever shall be, Your loving “Father.” Little need had he to tell me to pon- der over his letter. I read it and re- read it, and I am not ashamed to say that my tears fell upon it, and at last I rolled it up, and, setting fire to it, threw it under the grate, and when it had burned out I broke up the ashes. I found the purse under the pillow, and I had finished my toilet and fast- ened up my bag, when IT saw on the floor. under the head of the bed, a small parcel. It had, apparently, rolled off the table, and it might have been placed there for me; or, again, my father might have intended to take it with him, and, in the tumult of his feelings—and, judged by my own, this must have been great—have forgotten it. It was neatly and securely fast- ened, but I deemed it best, and per haps curiosity helped me to the decis- ion, to open it, and when the outer pa- per had been unrolled, I was sure of a part of the contents, for the scent of heliotrope, though very faint, was still perceptible. When I had opened it completely I found, as I had suspected, the little lace handkerchief that had lain* so near the dead man, and, in addition to it, there were five small cards and some newspaper cuttings. Besides the three cards I had seen, and which T have described, I now saw that there were two others—to-wit, the six and seven of spades, each of them show- ing their pips plainly standing cut from a red background. I glanced at the printed matter, and so interested in it did I become that I read it through, and this is the sub- stance of what I read. It appeared from the longer of the two cuttings } that on a certain morning, which was alluded to as that of the day before yesterday, a boy was tending some cattle on the marsh land near the town of Oldburgh on the east coast. It was about eleven o'clock in the forenoon when he noticed a gentle- man riding along the turf on the far side of a dyke that bounded the marsh. He was walking his horse and had come abreast of the boy, and some two or three furlongs from the rushes in which he was lying, when a man, apparently a tramp, rose up from amongst the gorse. As the tramp and the horseman were coming together the former suddenly threw up _ his arms and fell on his face. The gentle- man dismounted and, holding the bridle, bent over the prostrate man. In an instant the fellow sprang to his feet, there was a flash as of steel, the gentleman reeled backward and fell on the turf, and the tramp mounted the horse and rode off at a gallop. The boy was naturally terrified at what had happened. His master’s house was quite half a mile away, and thither he ran at top speed, as it would have been useless for him to attempt to reach the in- jured man, since the dyke was deep and broad, and the boy could not swim. Mr. Byrne, the master, was a quick- witted man. He remembered that he had seen the inspector of police go- ing towards Thorne, a fishing village some distance along the coast, so he set the boy on a pony, and bade him ride with all speed to this village—to rdach which he must of necessity pass the place where the gentleman lay—and bring back the official, while he himself hurried off to Oldburg in his tax-cart to bring the doctor. - Byrne was some considerable time infinding the medical man, and when at last he and that gentleman arrived at the spot indicated they saw plainly enough the bloodstains on the grass and the marks where the horse had started off at a gallop, but there was no official, no boy, nor any wounded man to be seen. In due course the inspector sum- moned Thorne by another messenger arrived and making a somewhat more extended search than the others had done he found under the first line of furzebrushes three small cards—two aces and the six of spades; and I may say here that the description of these cards tallied exactly with that of three of those I found in the parcel. But in spite of the help of the tele- graph and the efforts of some of the smartest detectives, the whereabouts of the boy, gentleman, and tramp re- mained a mystery. On making inquiries it was ascer- tained that a gentleman had arrived at Oldburgh by the last train on the previous evening, that he had put up at the Brunswick Hotel, and that he had ordered a horse and started for a ride about eleven o’clock, and subse- quently when the horse was found in a stable at Saxham, some twenty miles away, it was identified by its owner, the proprietor of the Bruns- wick. The description of the gentleman, as hair, and spoke very slowly, but be- any particular notice of him, and he re- tired early. He had given the name of Smith, and he had very little luggage, though he seémed to have plenty of money and *- fered to pay for his rooms for a week in advance. When his small portman- teau was examined it was found to con- tain such articles as a gentleman would naturally require for a week’s outing, but not a single article of apparel was marked in any way. The pony was discovered wandering about the marsh, and when inquiry was made at Saxham, where the horse was found, no explanation was forthcom- ing as to how the animal got into the stable. The other paper cutting was evi- dently of a later date, for it referred to the Oldburg mystery, as it was called, and, after spinning a long theory,’ con- cluded with the intimation that noth- ing had been discovered whereby the mystery might be solved. I had finished my reading and made the parcel up again so that it would fit easily into an inner pocket, when there was a tap at the door, and a voice proclaimed that breakfast would be ready in ten minutes, and I was thankful for this interval, as it would enable me te pull myself together and to assume an unconcerned air. When my breakfast had been successfully negotiated—and T found that grief and anxiety had not robbed me of my appe- tite—I walked out, and presently find- ing a ’bus going to Euston, I got on it and caught the train that started for the north at 9 o'clock. My long journey gave me ample leis- ure to think over my position, and, as the outcome of my musings, I made this resolve: that the end and aim of my life should be to discover my fath- er’s dreaded enemy, and at all haz- ards to clear up the mystery that had obtruded itself upon me in the morning of my life. I supposed my father thought I was too young yet to be trusted, but I was strong and healthy, I had been trained in athletic exercises until I was more than ordinarily proficient in most of them, and there was every probability that I should grow to man’s est*‘e. Then I could devote such energy as God might bestow upon me to my one purpose, and to do this with the best results, IT would strengthen my mental faculties and powers of perception in all ways. (To Be Continued.) THE SACRED CAVE OF ZEUS. Discovered in the Cretan Mountains by Hogarth, Director of the Brit- ish School at Athens. Deep in the tough heart of the Cre- tan mountains has Mr. Hogarth, the director of the British school at Ath- ens, heen digging for months, the sa- cred cave of Zeus being the object of his zeal. Recently he returned to Lon- don and added to what has already appeared on the subject of his excav- ations. * The cave is sacred to Zeus because his mother, Rhea, is supposed to have hidden him there to save him from the cannibal propensities of his father. Tt lies about 2,000 feet above the level of the sea. For some fifteen years past the na- tives have been finding ancient ob- jects there. One day a man rested his candle in a niche of the stallactite pil- lars with which the lower cave is lined. Something glittered behind it, and this proved to be a venerable of- fering placed there some 3,000 years ago. Other niches in other stalactites yielded the same finds—weapons, or imitation weapons that had been of- fered to Zeus, and needles and depila- tory instruments offered to his mother. To collect these objects, Mr. garth employed women, because their eyes were sharper and their touch lighter than the men’s. They fished the treasures out of the niches by means of the tweezers used by the natives in their charcoal fires. He gave them “‘backsheesh” for everything they ‘found. They enjoyed the work and re- joiced in the pay. So great was the quantity of antiaui- ties found by these women that Mr. Hogarth believes it will take him sev- en years to study and classify them.— London Daily Mail. ° Woes of a Candidate, The man is running for a country of- fice. He is also running @ saloon. He was sitting in his place of business one evening last week, when one of his constituents came in. “Say,” said the caller, “I want you to get Bill Voght out of jail.” “What's Bill been doin’?” “Nothin’ much. Jest hit his brother with an ax. Nothin’ but a little famb- ly quarrel.” “How bad’s the brother hurt?” “I don’t know. They took him to the county hospital, an’ I ain't heard how bad he is off. Head cut open some, I it was Bill’s own guess. But, say. brother he hit. Jest a fambly quarrel, that’s all.” : I'm afraid I can’t do—” “You ain’t goin’ to let Bill stay in jail all night, are you? Why, he jes’ hit a man with an ax, that’s all. All right. If you ain’t a-goin’ to do any- thing, Bill’ll know what to do on elec- tion day. I an’ the rest o’ the boys’ll know, too. Jes fer hittin’ a man with an ax!”—Chicago Tribune. All Old Chimneys Do. ‘An ‘Austrian prince once sent his servant to a painter, remarkable for his idleness as well as skill, and gave him a picture to copy. It was the painting of an old farm house. In a few days the servant went to see what progress had been made, and on his return informed the prince that all was done except one chimney. A week passed, and the picture was not returned. The prince then resolved to go himself. He did so, and found the artist still at the unfinished chimney. “How is this?” said the prince, se- verely; “all this time employed on one chimney?” “T have been obliged to do it and un- do it several times,” said the artist. “For what reason?” asked the prince. “Because,” said the artist, coolly, “I found that it smoked.”—London Tit- Bits. Mutually Hypnotised. altar?” ‘“T don't know whether he led her or yond this no one seems to have taken’ she pushed him.”—Indianapolis Press, Ho- | wo he has at last led ‘her to: the In Far Northland ‘T14-Bits of News for Scandina- vians. CARE OF INSANE, Much Room for Improvement Norway. It is admitted that in the insane asy- lums in Christiania, Throndhjern and other places, the most advanced ideas are in force, but, according to Verdens Gang and Skandinaven, there is much room for improvement in other places. A three-column article in Skandina- ven, semi-weekly edition of Nov. 7, re- counts in detail many of the abuses which may be observed by any one. The article refers especially to Ak hus, which is as close to the capital and metropolis of the kingdom as welt could be. It is stated that in this amt or county there are thirty-five “colo- nies,” with three or more patients scattered among the farms. The pro- prietors usually look upon the poor, un- fortunates as sources of revenue, and, as they are required only to feed them and prevent them from running away. the most primitive methods are the cheapest. The asylum often, therefore, is only a stockade, and the patients are housed in cells or cages, their food be- ing shoved to them through a small hole. There is almost a total abs: of light and ventilation, and the roundings are anything but favor to the patient. Special attention is called to the so-called insane colonies at Auerstad and Bjorkkamp, in Na Ss, Borkenaes, in Fet, and Killingmo, Urskog. At Uillensaker, the amt found a deaf mute insane. entirely naked on a bundle of rags. The phy: eian fs reported as deploring this state of affairs, but as Iong as there was a scarcity of room in the asylums there was little hope for improvement. The article referred to says that Christiania has 600 insane, while the public Tum acccmmodates only 120 patients. physician Famous Norwegian Seulptor. The November number of the cent- ury Magazine contains an interes ing article on the young Norwegian sculp- by Mr. tor, Hendrick Christian Andersen, Mrs. Schuyler Van Rensselaer. Andersen was born in Bergen, No: in 187: He studied art in Boston, F is and Italy. The ar by three of hi statue and two portr Annexation Not in Favor. It has been generally supposed that the inhabitants of St. Thom and St. Croix welcomed the possibility of a transfer of those islands to the United States, but St. Thomas Tidende seems to deny this. The merchants are said to look with disfavor on the establish- ment of a custom house, as theirs are free ports. Great Art Collection. Carl Jacobsen, Copenhagen’s liberal patron of art, has purchased a coliec- tion of works of the French sculptor, Rodin, for 74,000 francs. Some of M. Rodin’s most notable works are in- eluded, among them the marble group, “Eternal Spring.” The collection wili be presented to the glypothek com- plete. Danish Surgeon Honored. Dr. Christian Fenger, the famous surgeon, was tendered a banquet in Chicago at the Auditorium, by the American Medical association. About five hundred medical men took part. The doctor was presented with a costly Toving cup. Dr. Fenger was born in Copenhagen in 1840, and came to Amer- fea in 1875. Norwexzian’s Unique Invention. Capt. Emil Baardsen of Tromso, Norway, has invented a non-sinkable, self-righting boat, which will be avail- able for life-saving crews and fisher- men. Patents have been secured in Norway and England, and applications for patent willl also be made in the United States and other countries. Prima Donna Returns From Sweden, Mrs. Augusta Ohrmstrom-Renard, the well known prima donna, has returned to New York after a successful cone cert season in Sweden. She was ac- companied by Miss MacKenzie, who is very enthusiastic over Sweden and the Swedes. Actor Royally Received. Henrik Klausen, the popular Nar- wegian actor, was almost royally re- ceived upon his arrival in Copenhagen. Several swell receptions were held in his honor. His engagements at the Royal theater will doubtless prove a ‘great success. Swedish Paper in Demand. Swedish paper is in great demand, and the exports are increasing very rapidly. During the first quarter of the present year there were exported nearly 37,000,000 kilograms of paper. Worm Will Turm Some Day. The Finnish newspaper, Pajvalehti, has been discontinued for three months by command of the Russian governor general, and Vasa Nyheter has been abolished by the same genial Russian. Glee Club ‘Will Go to Norway. The Norwegian Glee Club of Chica- go intends to participate in the sang- erfest at Stavanger, Norway, in 1902, and is arranging for a big fair to be held next March, for the purpose of raising the necessary funds. Mining Coal at Spitzenberg. A Norwegian company began the mining of coal at Spitzenberg last sum- mer. When the mine gets deeper it is expected that the work can be carried on all the year round. od Fixing Time of Army Service. A bill has been introduced in. the Swedish parliament fixing the term of service in the army and navy at 245 days for ‘the first year and-35 days for the third, fourth and fifth years. The yearly expenditure will be 45,000,000 kroner for twelve years. Government Telephone Line Opens, The new government telephone line | between Christiania and eee ee ' | { } |